


Monsters Lurk in the Shadows

by WordsCharacterPlot



Series: Patchwork Family [2]
Category: Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Avengers Family, BAMF Natasha Romanov, Bucky Barnes Feels, Bucky Barnes Needs a Hug, Clint Barton & Natasha Romanov Friendship, F/M, Gen, POV Natasha Romanov, Pre-Avengers (2012), Protective Bucky Barnes, Protective Clint Barton
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-27
Updated: 2019-11-27
Packaged: 2021-02-25 23:49:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,473
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21584062
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WordsCharacterPlot/pseuds/WordsCharacterPlot
Summary: Natasha Romanoff has done dozens of solo missions both before and after SHIELD. They were necessary sometimes. Unfortunately, even the Black Widow could fall to insurmountable odds and bad intelligence. Good thing there's monsters in the shadows to help out.
Relationships: Clint Barton & Natasha Romanov, Clint Barton/Laura Barton, James "Bucky" Barnes/Natasha Romanov
Series: Patchwork Family [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1394446
Comments: 2
Kudos: 41





	Monsters Lurk in the Shadows

Natasha Romanoff crouched in the dirt, spy wear pressed to her eyes as she swept the old warehouse in front of her. Why was it always a warehouse? It wasn’t like these criminals were strapped for cash. She longed for a mansion to infiltrate. A hotel. Maybe one with a pool. Anything to let her in a gorgeous dress and heels instead of the grubby three day clothes torn and muddy from crouching in the bushes.

She pressed the device in her ear briefly, “Widow, checking in. Infiltration in five minutes.”

A confirmation was rattled back at her, cold, remote. She didn’t know the man on the line. It was the first time in a year that she had unfamiliar agents as her back up. Trying and failing to not see that as an omen, she did another sweep of the area. Something made her pause at the ridge opposite her. A flash of something.

She stared at the spot suspiciously, but nothing moved. An itch in the back of her mind made her pause, but she shook it off. She was off her game. 

Despite her insistence for Clint to stay home, Natasha wished he was here. His incessant chatter would be a welcome constant. With a barely audible sigh, she slipped down the hill towards the warehouse.    
  
Clint was home. It was Lila’s birthday and he deserved to be home. She had gone on many solo missions prior to SHIELD and she was not so far gone to not be able to handle this op. Coulson had offered a suitable partner for the op, but she refused. Better to take the job alone than wonder if the agent assigned her would stab her in the back. 

The op could use an extra set of eyes though, as well as a distraction. It wasn’t impossible alone, she didn’t lie to Coulson or Clint about that, but it was difficult. If she was pushing herself to prove she hadn’t lost her edge, well, that would remain a mystery.

A window located near the ground, access to the basement was broken and rusted. No light shone out. Nimble fingers worked the pane off silently and she slipped into the void. Her breaths came out even and calm as her eyes adjusted. She stepped forward.

A pipe fell on her shoulder.

Light burst into the room.

Thugs lined the walls.

Somehow, impossibly, she had been made. Which meant a mole in SHIELD (likely) or she made a mistake (doubtful). Offering a feral grin, Natasha channeled her inner Clint, “A welcoming committee for little me? How touching.”

They were not the chatty type. At her words, chaos reigned. She managed to incapacitate seven of the twelve thugs before one got in a lucky shot. Pain exploded in the back of her head and her vision went black.

Memories scattered, interspersed with past and present. Cold winters in Russia, whispering girls in huddled corners. Strange men in masks. Heated arguments over money. 

Had to be some sort of drug, dulling her senses, forcing her to stay under. It did not relieve the pain. The men who had her were cruel and vindictive, jeering at their prize. When she managed to waken, she did not waste time. She spent exactly sixty seconds cataloguing injuries. Pale skin indicative of blood loss. Poorly wrapped bandage on her leg to keep her from bleeding out. Sharp pain of broken ribs and dull ache of possible concussion.

Once the sixty seconds was complete, she sprung into action. The bonds around her arms and legs were pitiful. They underestimated her. She was not a damsel in distress. Pain and death could not keep her contained. She was fire, steel, blood.

And she struck like a viper. 

The two guards at her door were out before either could turn. Two more quickly followed. An alarm ran through the warehouse. She ran for the nearest exit, a window. Ground floor, it was now day. The mission ever present in her mind, she found the office and swiped her bracelet over the hard drives. Tony assured her the gadget would work. She had counted on enemies overlooking jewelry. No time to verify.

She slipped down the hall. A shadow slipped without her notice and collided into her. Pain blossomed, the void consumed her once again. This time, she dreamed, Russian words murmured in her ear, the scent of gun oil and leather, flashes of memory of warm fires on cold nights.

She woke just long enough the second time to note the lack of restraints and see Clint rushing towards her. Knowing he would get her to safety, get her back to her children, was enough of relief that she welcomed the darkness. She held onto the lifeline his presence represented and it allowed for a third gentle wake.

The beep of machinery and low rumble of Clint’s voice. Antiseptic. SHIELD medbay.

“Yes, I agree Lila Bee. It was very silly of your aunt to go in without backup. No, I don’t plan on allowing it again. I know, I know.” Natasha opened her eyes and looked at Clint, sitting in the corner with Lila in his lap. He met her gaze, some uncanny ability to know she had awoken, “But clearly she wasn’t thinking straight.”

She raised her chin in defiance. An automatic gesture. Her mind was still sludging through drugs to force clear thought. Thankfully, her children entered as a distraction.

“Mama!” Anya rushed to her, scrambling onto the bed. James, albeit quieter, was quick to follow. He nuzzled into her side, reminding her of broken ribs and stab wounds. Still, other than a sharp breath, she didn’t turn away the touch, soaking in their presence just as surely as they were seeking hers.

“Shh. It’s okay. I’m okay.” One hand nestled in James’ hair while the other cupped Anya’s cheek. “Have you been good for your aunt and uncle?”

She nodded quickly, peeking behind her at Laura, before grinning. “Earned sweets!”

“Did you?” Her daughter chattered aimlessly, the words half legible, while her son demonstrated his vice grip. Natasha grew tenser as she burned through the pain meds, something Clint picked up quickly.

“Alrighty! Everyone under three gets ice cream!” The kids cheered, Laura glared, “You can see your mom later.”

It took some work getting James to let go. She whispered promises in Russian and gave them both a kiss, and Laura managed to wrangle all three out the door. She waved her phone on their way out, a promise to text or call once the littles were sleeping.

Clint dropped his cheery attitude the moment the kids were out of sight. He crossed his arms and leaned against the wall in sullen anger. “Wanna explain why you’re in a hospital bed with three broken ribs and enough lacerations and burn marks to make roadkill jealous?”

“I was doing my job. It wasn’t supposed to be a difficult mission.” He knew this. He read the jacket. He knew why she went without backup, why she insisted for him to remain. Natasha wasn’t about to rehash all that while lying in a bed. 

“Your job isn’t dying. Any intel isn’t worth your life.” Debatable. She glanced down at her wrist. A bracelet made specifically for her that Tony assured would only leave her wrist without her consent if her wrist went with it still lingered. She grinned and slipped it off, “What?”

“The intel from the terrorist cell.” She let the bracelet rest on the bed, unwilling to use the energy to chuck it at his forehead. “And there had to be a rat. They knew I was coming.”

“You should have messaged earlier,” he ground out, “I was almost too late.”

That was the biggest issue Clint had, but it rolled off her in confusion, “I didn’t message you.”

That startled him out of his anger. He blinked, “Yes you did. I got your SOS. Nearly died crossing a few borders.”

That wasn’t right. Adrenaline spiked through the drugs and offered clear thought. While Natasha had done many things in pain-induced stupors before, she would remember. The only lost memories were those stolen by the Red Room.

“Nat?” She blinked, looking up at him, his concern overruling his disappointment for the time being.

“I need to see that message.” Picking up on her tone, Clint just frowned and handed her phone. She read the text. Her code. Only three people in the world knew this code, knew this communication. Dizziness that had nothing to do with drugs or pain washed over her.

But she was a fraction too late in covering her emotions. Clint’s eyes narrowed as a doctor came in. Questions about her health and history that she offered little knowledge on passed through the doctor’s lips before the medical professional gave a curt command to rest and left the room.

Unwilling to shrink under Clint’s gaze, Natasha met him with a steely look of her own. His jaw clenched and teeth groaned, “So who sent it?”

“It’s my code.” That earned her a snarl and she raised an eyebrow, tired of his childish tantrum.

“That’s not what I asked. I’m your partner! The only time you’ve ever-” He had begun to pace the room, but reached clarity midstride. He went still, reminding the world that he was a deadly marksman underneath the goofy exterior. He turned slowly, eyes searching for answers she had kept secret for so long. “The twin’s dad?”

The one subject she never brought up, never shared. It had caused several arguments between them and even more property damage. Clint saw it as a sign of distrust. Natasha claimed it wasn’t his right. In truth, she would protect him as he had protected her. With a sigh, she pushed herself up on the bed, trying to sit straighter despite her body’s protest, “His code name is the Winter Soldier and even in the intelligence community, he’s a ghost. He and I developed the code when we worked together.”

“He was there?”

“I didn’t see him. I wasn’t aware he was active.” Her mind raced over the foggy memories of her capture. How often had the glint of metal been mistaken for the barrel of a gun? Even then, if he hadn’t wanted to be seen, he wouldn’t.

“And he just happens on your op?” Suspicion dripped from his words. Rightfully so. While Natasha never gave details or information about him, Clint was able to pick up the cues. They were not on the same side, “And just happens to rescue you?”

“I don’t have the answers you’re looking for. I never saw him.”

“Not that you would tell me, right? I don’t need to know about a man capable of hurting my partner, my wife, or my child.” Anger burned in his eyes again, his body rigid. The old arguments flaring up again, with no Laura or children to diffuse them

Her hands clenched and nostrils flared, “I’m capable of hurting them as well. If your trust in me is so far gone then you should pack up and disappear.”

“You don’t see clearly when it comes to him, Nat!” he snapped, “Through some twisted version of love, he has you wrapped around your finger!”

Fingers twitching for a knife, Nat yanked the IV out and made the effort to stand, refusing the gasp that begged to be released. Clint was at her side in an instant, “What are you doing?!”

“Move Barton,” she hissed, eyes glinting dangerously. Even in her condition, she would have no problems putting him down, “I’m not listening to your accusations a moment longer.”

Anger still simmered under the surface, but he held his hands out in surrender and stepped back, “I’ll go check on Laura and the kids. Try not to get yourself killed for their sake.”

Clint stalked off and Natasha sunk back in the bed, ignoring the nurse that rushed in at the blaring machines. She was quickly hooked back up. The nurse thought she was clever in introducing a sedative to her IV, but she felt it the moment it hit her bloodstream and threw a glare at the retreating medical staff.

The argument was not over. She had given him the code name and Clint would undoubtedly research all he could. There wouldn’t be much; Natasha had done her own digging, but it would be enough to heat up the arguments if she didn’t head it off. Perhaps it was overdue. As the twins got older, they would ask questions about their father. The last thing she wanted was Clint passing off his animosity in front of the kids.

A problem for another day. A day when she wasn’t confined to a bed. Her eyes slipped closed.

Part of her training in the Red Room forced her never to sleep too deeply. The slightest creak or whisper would jump her body to alertness. A side effect was that she was able to run on less sleep, something immensely useful when caring for twins. Even injured and drugged could not take this ingrained instinct away from Natasha.

Which is why at 3:26 am Natasha’s eyes snapped open, gratefully finding a knife under her pillow. Maria Hill stood just inside the door, a folder in hand. Thoughts of a leak in SHIELD, of someone trying to cause permanent damage to her or Clint, made her grip the knife a little tighter.

Hill was good at her job and quickly becoming the go-to person for Fury. She had a no-nonsense attitude towards breaking rules and a vicious sense of justice. On that alone, they may have gotten along, but Natasha kept her distance when it came to the director of SHIELD.

Neither woman spoke as Hill dropped the folder on the small table connected to her bed. She opened it with a great deal of caution, keeping Hill in her periphery.

The contents were...surprising.

Ignoring the redacted words and legal speak, the file was on people who reported information that led to capture of a senior level agent in a high risk situation. One leak in SHIELD plugged. She flicked her eyes to Hill in a silent question.

“You’re not the only one who knows where we keep the matches.” She flicked the cuffs of her suit, “Don’t make this a habit, Romanoff. I hate paperwork.”

Hill did not stay for banter or conversation. She whirled out, duty done. There would undoubtedly be more leaks, more rats in SHIELD, but this was a statement to Natasha more than anything. Hill, and ostensibly Fury, would not tolerate agents hurt by direct treason. They would not settle for traitors. She settled back in her bed. Not for the first time, Natasha was grateful SHIELD offered her protection instead of elimination.

**Author's Note:**

> I had lots of requests for Bucky, so here you go! He's gonna be in the shadows for a bit because I love a slow burn. Working on the next installment. Hope you enjoyed this brief one shot. More to follow!


End file.
